


Caught in the Act

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Swan Queen Supernova 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: Emma has apparently taken it upon herself to see how many places she can get me to come before we get caught, particularly since what happened at Granny's two weeks ago.AKA: Four times Regina and Emma got caught in the act and the one time they got away with it.





	1. The Sheriff's Station

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassMenagerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassMenagerie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Mayor's Office [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808518) by [GlassMenagerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassMenagerie/pseuds/GlassMenagerie). 



> Pairing: Regina/Emma, mentions of past Regina/Daniel, past Regina/Robin, past Regina/Maleficent  
> Date Written: 21 July - 26 August 2018  
> Word Count: 12905  
> Written for: SQSupernova III: Written in the Stars  
> Artist: GlassMenagerie  
> Link to art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808518  
> Summary: Emma has apparently taken it upon herself to see how many places she can get me to come before we get caught, particularly since what happened at Granny's two weeks ago. 
> 
> AKA: Four times Regina and Emma got caught in the act and the one time they got away with it.  
> Spoilers: Canon divergent AU taking place nebulously in 4B, but not everything that happened in canon happens here.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: I had so many plans for what I'd do for my "big" fic for SQSN. I'm kind of bummed that my original idea didn't work out, but at the same time, it likely would've gotten me drummed out of SQ fandom completely, so perhaps it's better to save that for another time when I'm more able to write it and not have to worry about deadlines. Then I got this great idea from anamii, but I couldn't quite get my brain wrapped around it enough to do properly either. I was worried that I'd just completely have to drop out of this portion of SQSN, which upset me greatly. I don't really write much SQ fic anymore, except for during SQSN, so I don't want to give up any opportunities here. And then Shatterpath and I came up with the basic idea for this fic. And yes, you can completely blame her for what's become the first chapter of this fic. She and I were trading commentary about the terms involved, and I'm forever grateful to her for helping to get these muses going.
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as always…
> 
> Beta: SPL is my beta bish and I don't deserve her awesomeness.

The familiar stretch of tiled floor that allows my clicking heels to echo off the walls is a balm to my soul. Even more comforting is who I'll find at the end of the corridor when I reach it.

We've barely had any time alone since her return from New York. Between fighting off Zelena and the time travel nonsense that caused such issues, the opportunity to get even five uninterrupted minutes alone with my girlfriend where we're conscious and not passed out in a dead stupor is slim to none.

Elsa and her family have returned to their realm, but Storybrooke still suffers lingering effects of her ice magic gone awry. Zelena is safely ensconced in one of the subterranean padded cells with the magic dampening cuff firmly attached to her wrist. Her penchant for gaudy emerald jewelry gave away her Marian ruse rather quickly, much to her chagrin. Robin Hood and his intrepid band of Merry Men have taken over the forest surrounding Storybrooke. The separation is good for us, given everything.

Coming closer to the bullpen door, I can hear the classic rock blaring from the sound system Emma conned me out of in an orgasmic haze. David must be here still.

"And would you cry if I told you that I lied and would you say goodbye or would you let it ride?"

I love my girlfriend very much, but she is a passable singer at best. I much prefer when she shimmies and sways with the music, especially when she includes me. My eyes follow the play of muscle in her back and legs, drawn to the sway of her hips in those tight jeans she prefers. Oh, who's kidding? _I_ prefer them, too. She picks up the lyrics again and starts to turn toward me, working quite the air guitar riff, eyes closed. Her hair shakes, curls bouncing hypnotically. 

A small part of my brain wonders where David is, but the vast majority is watching my girlfriend as I lean against the doorframe. Emma keeps singing and playing her air guitar, hips gyrating in a way that _almost_ makes me laugh. She's nearing the end of the song, if the repetition of lines is any indication. In the seconds of silence before the next track starts up, Emma's eyes open as she reaches for her coffee cup. Her scream at seeing me makes me jump, even as I expect it to happen from the look on her face, and start to laugh.

"What the hell, Regina?" Her voice is at least half an octave above her normal tone, which just makes me laugh harder. "It's not fucking funny, Mills!"

That spurs me into action, pushing off the doorframe to saunter over to her. I put a little extra sway in my hips, the insane heels I'm wearing making it even more pronounced. "I think it's quite amusing actually." I keep walking toward her, backing her up against the desk her father uses regularly. Smirking, I lean in to rest my hands on the desktop on either side of her hips, bringing my chest up close to hers. "In fact, if I don't have anything else to occupy me, I'll just keep laughing."

Emma's eyes scan down my body, and she leans back a bit more on the desk, but I just keep leaning forward to stay in her personal space. The shift in angle puts some strain on the buttons of my blouse until they're nearly ready to burst open. My smirk grows wider as her pupils dilate.

"Regina?" Her voice cracks, cheeks flushing red as she licks her lips.

"Where's David?"

"Huh?"

Licking my lips because I know it'll grab her attention, I lean in even closer and repeat myself slowly. "Where? Is? David?" By the time I utter his name, I'm close enough that my lips brush against hers, breath wafting across her skin.

It takes a moment for her to speak, mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish out of water. Finally she stammers out, "P-Patrolling. He left a few minutes before you showed up."

"Good. That means I have time to do this." Without giving her the slightest chance to question me, I lean in the last little distance to press my lips to hers. The tiniest whimper escapes her, but she doesn't pull back. In fact, Emma leans in, tilting her head to the side as my tongue peeks out to stroke along her bottom lip. As her lips part, her tongue meets mine before I can even gain any traction in her mouth. Frowning at her apparent need to thwart my desire for dominance, I lean forward again, pressing her harder into the desk.

"Regina?" she asks, voice gone husky already after just a moment of kissing.

Instead of speaking, my focus is on getting her to sit on that damned desk in just the right spot. I want this to be memorable, after all. She struggles briefly, but when she apparently figures out what I expect of her, she complies easily. Settling on the desk, her legs spread enough for me to nestle between them. I can't help the smirk as I feel the heat radiating from the apex of her thighs.

"This is-- We're usually the other way around," she says with a breathless chuckle. "I don't think I've ever--"

"Shut up, Emma," I growl, kissing her again, tongue easily slipping into her mouth. My hands glide up from her knees to her waist, fingers of one hand teasing just barely into her waistband to move around to the small of her back. Emma whimpers softly as my nails scratch lightly at the skin exposed between the hems of her bikinis and her tank top. Tongue swiping along the roof of her mouth and her teeth, my other hand shifts up toward her hair, deliberately rubbing against her breast in the process. My lips quirk up as her nipple stiffens and I let my hand tease her other breast in the same manner.

"Fuck!"

My hand immediately leaves her chest, tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her close to deepen the kiss. She sucks in a startled breath as I tighten my grip on her hair, swallowing her breathy, wanton moan eagerly. The hand massaging the small of her back eases up under her worn cotton tank, mapping out the play of muscles rippling in response to my touch. Her easy reactions make my own nipples stiffen, a sense of pride flooding through me at knowing her body so well, especially with as short-lived as our relationship has been so far. 

She tilts her head a bit, capturing my bottom lip in her teeth in the process to suck and nibble at it. My own moan is heady, needy in its own right, leaving me to pray she doesn't get _too_ cocky from it. Her hands grip my hips, kneading steadily; it takes a moment to realize that she's actually inching my tight skirt up my thighs slowly but surely. It's only as the material snags on the clips of my garters that realization truly sets in, and then I chuckle darkly, knowing what she'll find when her hands venture past the smooth skin of hips and upper thighs.

My own body reacts viscerally to the idea of her fingering me to completion right here at her father's desk, though I'd prefer if her arousal left a gleaming coat to the surface instead. Just one more dig at my stepson-in-law. Sometimes I can't help myself. Mentally shaking myself of thoughts of Snow and her charming shepherd of a husband, the hand pressed along Emma's spine moves around to tease her breast through the sports bra she chose to wear today. Knowing there's extra material involved, I use my nails more intently to pluck at each stiff peak before kissing my way down her neck with sucking kisses before nibbling at her clavicle. Both hands move to tug at her tank, grateful that she removed the flannel shirt she chose to wear today. She doesn't fight when I lean back to pull it over her head, outside of a whine at the loss of my mouth on her skin.

A small voice in the back of my head, sounding suspiciously like Snow White, tries to warn me against doing this at all. 

_You're in the Sheriff's Department. People could need the services of this office and walk in to find the Mayor fucking the Sheriff!_

At the same time, another voice, that of my evil side, counters vociferously and slightly more loudly.

_You're the Mayor of this stupid fucking town where nothing bad ever happens unless it's related to magic. You've finally got a lull in the attacks. I say you go for it!_

And since she _is_ me, I'm going to listen to her over that simpering Snow voice every time. My fingers slip into the soft material of her bra to release her breast, my lips wrapping around her nipple without hesitation. Emma lets out a loud whine, head thrown back, and her hands grip my hips tightly. My chuckle vibrates against her skin, causing another plaintive, mewling cry of my name this time.

The sudden gust of cooler air across the skin of my ass, exposed by both thong and lack of skirt, should be my first indication that something's amiss. But I'm enjoying the delectable sounds coming from my lover's mouth as tongue and fingers tease her nipples.

"What the hell?! Oh my god!"

Emma stiffens against me, fingers gripping my skin tightly enough to possibly leave bruises. I'll wear them as badges of honor if it means scandalizing Snow's sweet shepherd. Mouth and fingers continue to work at Emma's nipples, a low moan escaping my lips at just how decadent this is. If David's not careful about where he's standing, he may see a whole lot more than he ever bargained for.

Is it wrong that I kind of _want_ him to see more than he should?

Emma squirms and sharply tugs down my skirt, snagging the hem on my garter clip. The telltale rip of my favorite skirt douses my ardor effectively. I step back and casually wipe the corners of my lips, attempting to clean my smudged lipstick, before reaching back in to cover up Emma's delectable breasts. She is flushed a deep red almost down to those pert nipples of hers. It makes me feel invincible that I can get her so flustered. Well, her father's appearance probably has something to do with it, too.

"Step away from my daughter, Regina."

Laughing, I turn to look at him, adjusting skirt and blouse in the process, and quirk a brow. "Your daughter is an adult and a very active participant in what just happened. Try that macho _Daddy_ routine on your wife, hmm?"

"Oh my god," Emma mutters, head falling into her hands as she slides down into the chair.

"Don't sit in my chair, Emma! And you need to sanitize the entire surface of my desk before I can touch it." He runs his hand through his hair. "What in the hell am I going to tell your mother?"

"You're not going to tell Snow White a fucking thing, David!" I growl. "I have no desire to listen to her crying constantly about how I've deflowered her precious virginal daughter, despite having a teenage grandson."

The minute the words are out of my mouth, I realize the folly of my impetuous threat. David stands taller, chest puffing out, and there's a devious gleam in his eye that I would appreciate if I wasn't worried about his next move.

"Are you threatening me, Regina?" he asks, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "Because I have Snow on speed dial and I'm quite sure she'd love to hear all about how you're corrupting and debauching our daughter."

"There's no corrupting _or_ debauching, Dad!" Poor Emma's voice is a good octave and a half higher than normal. "This isn't normal for us."

"Looks pretty normal to me, Emma, and I'm sure your mother would see it the same way." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Unless, of course, you've got something to make it worth my while to keep my mouth shut?" His smirk is _almost_ enough to turn me on again. Who knew the meek and mild shepherd had a hidden sadistic streak.

"What are your terms, Charming?"

This. This is my forte. I learned the art of the deal from two of the best in the business: my mother and the imp. There is no way this simple shepherd is going to best me.

"Emma needs to thoroughly deep clean my desk and the entire bullpen."

"Deal," she says eagerly.

"No, Emma, you don't understand. I want to gag on the scent of Lysol."

"If you'd been a few minutes later," I say with a seductive purr, "you'd have gagged on the scent of--"

"Regina, stop!"

"Please fucking kill me!"

Their overlapping replies make me laugh and playfully pout. "You're no fun," I say to neither in particular. "And I assume you have some punishment for me? Clean out your filthy squad car maybe? Magic will go a long way toward making that easy."

"No, I have something else in mind for you, Regina, but you'll still get your hands dirty."

Quirking a brow, I smirk. "My, my, Charming, you _are_ a kinky one. I can see where your daughter gets it."

"Please just shut the hell up!" Emma moans, practically crawling under the desk.

David shudders and shakes his head. "Not what I meant, Regina, and you know it. You will make me dinners here at the station for the next month. I want a pan of lasagna and a full pot roast dinner every week, without fail, or I tell Snow. Oh, and dessert each week would be nice. That cherry cheesecake you made last month would be lovely."

"What? No apples?"

He sneers and unlocks his phone. "I can easily call my wife and let her loose on the two of you. She could either take it badly and threaten you or she could take it really well and hound you until you make an honest woman of Emma."

"Fine!" I growl, hands curling into tight fists at my sides as I resist the urge to hurl a fireball at him. "I'm your personal caterer for a month and Emma makes this place gleam like polished chrome. And you swear to keep your damned mouth shut to Miss I-Can't-Keep-Secrets-To-Save-Anyone's-Soul, right?"

"For the entirety of the next month, I won't say a word. Beyond that? You need to renegotiate."

I glance over at Emma, who nods eagerly, still unable to look at either of us. Without thought, I reach out to stroke her cheek, reassured when she leans into my touch. Despite the bravado on display for David's benefit, there is far more than simply incredible sex on the line here with Emma. And I'm far more worried about his wife learning just how deeply in love I am with their daughter than any kinkiness we may share in the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, I meet his gaze openly and offer my hand. "You've got yourself a deal, David."

"Good. Let's shake on it." He takes my hand in his firm grip to seal the deal, that devious smirk gracing his lips again. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Regina. I expect to have my lasagna here and still hot when I start my shift tomorrow afternoon."


	2. Granny's Diner

Swallowing thickly, I lick my lips and stare at Emma. I know my eyes are wide, not enough for most people to note any alarm on my face, but enough for my lover to know she's crossed lines today. But apparently she doesn't seem to care about that. Her foot slides up the side of my leg -- how exactly did she get off that combat boot she likes to wear so easily? -- and I find myself grateful to have worn pants today instead of the skirts I usually prefer, pulling my leg away from her. I suppose I can thank the persistent chill in the air signaling the coming harsh winter months. If my meager skills at weather magic can be believed, we're in for a nasty season ahead. I need to remember to have my pantsuits and dress slacks dry-cleaned sooner, rather than later.

Emma's toes ease under the hem of my wide pant leg again, bringing me back to the issue at hand. She's been trying to get back at me ever since her father caught us at the station a week ago. So far, it hasn't worked, but I will say that my girlfriend is every bit as stubborn and competitive as I am. I figure she'll wear me down at some point.

But today is not that day. And even if it was, the _diner_ is not the place I intend for her to exact her revenge.

"Stop it!" I hiss, pulling my leg away with a glare. A quick glance around the diner shows that no one is paying particular attention to us, but I'd rather be safer than sorrier. I do still have to maintain some semblance of order in this damned town.

"Stop what?" The innocent mien is ruined by the blatant twinkle of mischief in eyes gone rich malachite green, thanks to a combination of her libido and her choice of clothes today. When I glare and quirk a brow, she offers a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, the foot thing? Sorry, I was just stretching out my calf. I keep getting hints that it might cramp."

"You're a sorry excuse for a liar, Savior." I roll my eyes as her lashes flutter in a slowly exaggerated move. "That might work on some other simpering female or any of the men you've chased in the past, but I am a queen and a bit more refined." My lips curl up in a satisfied smirk when she scowls and slumps back into the bench, only to drop again when those agile toes work their way almost up to my knee this time. "Emma!" When she still doesn't stop and, in fact, tries to inch her way up to my thigh, I shift to get out of the booth. "I need the restroom. And don't you _dare_ follow me, Ms. Swan."

Turning toward the back of the diner, I subtly readjust my slacks to fall appropriately before walking away. Silence falls over the whole diner, leaving my heels to clack loudly, and I realize that these gossipy people still find far too much interest in my day to day life. Surely they have no idea that Emma and I are anything more than co-parents and professional members of the town's government. A deep breath goes great lengths to help me regain some semblance of control, making my way past the booths. The surly dwarf gets a particularly dirty look when he has the temerity to snicker softly in my presence. If he doesn't need to change his clothes from soiling them, I'll be impressed. He's never been able to stand up to me for long, even when I had no magic.

Stepping into the bathroom, I rest back against the door for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply. Emma does _not_ need to know how easily she can rile me up. She doesn't need the boost to her already disgustingly smug Charming confidence, even if it means I get something incredible out of it. The longer I stand there, the more the music starts to filter in and I want to pull out my hair. What is it with this town and classic rock? I always thought Granny would prefer something like jazz or maybe even country. Ruby always liked the punk movement that was popular when we first arrived here in Storybrooke, but the classic rock? Perhaps it's time to consider an addition to the town charter to outlaw it from public places of business. A soft, rueful laugh bubbles up past my lips at the thought. No one in this town will go for it, and I'd rather keep my job now that I've fixed the mistakes that Snow made when she thought she could manage the town on her own.

Shaking my head, I make my way into the larger stall with a frown at the "out of order" sign on the other stall. The relief to my bladder is blissful and the solitude from prying eyes equally so. I just sit there for several minutes, torn over returning to finish my meal with Emma and just poofing myself back to my office to keep from dealing with the idiots who patronize this establishment. 

Before I can make any kind of decision, or even finish cleaning up after myself, the door creaks as it opens. Childishly holding my breath, I hope the person coming in is just going to wash their hands and go. The water runs briefly, and I let my breath out on a silent sigh. When it turns off, but there are no further movements, I'm reminded of my days in Leopold's castle, and my anxiety suddenly ratchets up a bit.

"You planning on staying in there all day or you gonna come back out to finish lunch?"

Emma. Of course, it's Emma. But I didn't hear her boots… Before I can even fully grasp that thought, those very same boots clomp to the ground just outside the stall door. I can't help the soft giggle that bubbles up past my lips as I finish up and stand to redress myself. Another deep breath before I unlock the door and let it swing open to meet Emma's amused grin. Carefully stepping around the boots, I make my way to the sink to wash my hands and check my makeup in the mirror.

"Those are a tripping hazard," are my first words to her. "And I'm quite sure you not wearing them constitutes some sort of health code violation."

"I took them off once I was in the back hall, so technically _not_ in the diner itself," she says with a shrug. "Besides, Granny loves me. She wouldn't kick me out for anything like that."

Grabbing two paper towels to dry my hands, I turn to face her with a hip against the counter. "You sound pretty sure of yourself, Ms. Swan." The hunger lurking in her eyes lures me in, a small smirk playing at my lips at her predictable reaction to her surname.

"Call me 'Ms. Swan' one more time…"

Her dare makes me chuckle, a sudden surge of bravado hardening my resolve to push back and see just what kind of mood she's in. Leaning in closer as I reach behind her to drop the used towels in the trash, I murmur, "You're in my way, _Ms. Swan_." 

The half-octave drop in my vocal range is a last minute decision. Before I can determine if it's a good one or bad, Emma pounces with surprising leonine grace. My back is pressed up against the wall, head narrowly missing the corner of the paper towel dispenser in the process. Her lips cover mine, tongue insistent on entry into my mouth, and I'm too distracted by this turn of events to refuse her. A soft moan greets her ardor, hands scrambling for purchase on her hips as her palms cup my cheeks, fingers tangling in my hair to keep me close. Her body shuffles closer to mine, heat radiating to warm me almost to the point of burning. Her lips move from mine far too soon for my liking, tasting along the length of my jaw to nip at my earlobe. 

"Fuck, Emma! What are you doing?"

"If you can't figure that out, then I'm definitely doing something wrong." She returns to nibbling at my ear, breath hot when she groans and traces the shell with her tongue. "Hopefully you'll figure it out though."

Her husky, downright _dominant_ tone sends shivers down my spine to explode into a kind of oozing warmth that threatens to melt me into a puddle of desire and arousal. My thighs begin to go slick with the need churning in gut and loins, and my fingers clutch tightly at the belt loops of her jeans to keep her from straying too far away.

"I want to devour you until I'm sated and coated in your sweetness and you are nothing more than a satisfied and well-fucked puddle at my feet."

She punctuates her words with a knee between my legs, and I am helpless to stop from bucking onto that firm, toned thigh. She chuckles, the sound slithering down my spine to add to the fire low in my belly, shifting to scrape her teeth along _that_ sensitive spot just behind and below my ear. A wanton _Fuck!_ escapes my lips as my eyes slam shut, head tilting to the side to expose the expanse of my throat to her.

"In the stall," she murmurs against my skin. 

I must blink owlishly at her for too long because she repeats herself and steps back, pulling me from the wall with her. My steps are unsteady as I stumble into the stall I just vacated what seems like days ago now, but was only a few moments at most. As soon as I can find a wall to lean against, I take it, licking my lips in anticipation of what is coming. And then I let out a soft giggle as I realize _I_ will be the one coming.

"What's so funny, babe?"

I shake my head, unwilling to explain myself for fear of sounding silly. She shrugs and leans in to capture my lips again, hands moving possessively down my body to rest on my hips for a moment. Our tongues glide sinuously, and I groan at the image of her head between my legs, tongue teasing my clit as two fingers pump slow and deep. Fingers deftly unbutton and unzip my slacks before slipping in past the tails of my shirt to stroke along the likely ruined cotton of my thong toward where I need her most.

"Mmm… Someone seems to be having a bit of a problem," she says, hand finally cupping me, but still not _quite_ touching what I need. "How do you plan to continue your mayoral duties with such _wet_ clothing, Madam Mayor?"

"I--" I want to reply, but I lose all ability to speak when her fingers slide beneath the sodden cotton to drag through my arousal. "Fuck me!"

The loud bang at the door startles me, but Emma doesn't let go of me at all. She shushes me, fingers still moving gently, and I have to swallow back a sob of need. When the door opens, I forget how to breathe. We're in the _only_ working stall.

"I know you two are in there, so you might as well come out." Granny's gruff voice carries like a foghorn in the small bathroom. I can't move, not even if I wanted to. "I can hear and _smell_ you two and you're stinking up my diner worse than a skunk on the defensive."

I squeak when something hits the stall door, then realize it's Emma's boots as they hit the floor again. Emma chuckles softly at the hint, but still doesn't move from her position pressing me into the wall. She nuzzles at that spot again, fingers quietly slip into my cunt as her thumb glides over my clit. I can't breathe for fear of giving the wolf the knowledge of my razor's edge arousal right now. Emma's fingers move slowly, deeply, and drag against my g-spot until I want to scream and thrash about.

"You two are damned ridiculous." Is that a note of _fondness_ in her voice? "If Ruby was here, she'd be humping the door and howling like a banshee." 

That mental image pulls a soft snort from me, which rocks my body against Emma's hand more, and I feel my face flushing with embarrassment at just how turned on I am. This is worse than getting caught by David, likely worse than getting caught by my own mother. Granny still has those sharp wolf senses and an incredibly long memory. We are so fucked right now, and not even in the best ways. Though, if Emma continues what she's doing with her fingers right now, I'm going to do something involuntary, messy, and likely loud as hell. There will be no mistaking what's happening in here.

Granny clears her throat and kicks at the door. It makes both of us jump, Emma's fingers pressing in harder against my g-spot. My vision goes white for a handful of seconds and I let out a squeak.

"Oh for the love of little green apples!" Her gruff voice definitely holds a note of amusement. "You have exactly three minutes to get yourselves sorted and out of this bathroom or I'm coming back with a pitcher of ice water and dousing you both with it." The squeak of her shoes indicates she's moving toward the door again. "And Regina? When I submit my renovation and rezoning request next week, I expect it to be approved immediately, _right_?"

"Y-Yes," I squeak out, voice so thick with arousal, I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole to spare me the embarrassment of the walk of shame past her when we finally leave this bathroom.

"Good girl."

The second the door closes, Emma laughs, head slumping onto my shoulder. I squirm and try to get away from her, but she won't move. "Emma!"

"Shh!" she murmurs, fingers moving again, faster, deeper, as her thumb pounds out a rhythm against my clit that makes my knees buckle. "We have like two minutes left. I can get you off, then we'll go home."

"I ca--" I moan wantonly as her thumbnail scrapes lightly across my clit. " _Fuck!_ I-I can't go back out there, Emma, not looking and smelling freshly fucked."

"I've got it, babe. Just let go and trust me."

She adds a third finger to the two already turning my insides molten, shifting so her palm grinds against my clit. My breath hitches as I smack the back of my head into the wall, then her lips cover mine, kissing me possessively as the orgasm descends on me with barely any warning. I'm still shuddering and barely able to keep myself upright against the wall without her body's assistance when her white magic surrounds us to send us home.


	3. Mayoral Office

Emma has apparently taken it upon herself to see how many places she can get me to come before we get caught, particularly since what happened at Granny's two weeks ago. While I'm still rather angry that I never actually got that orgasm _exactly_ how I wanted it, my body was mollified briefly by the one I _did_ get before punishing me with one of the worst periods I've ever encountered in my life. I admit that it's exciting in its own way to be encouraging this new exhibitionistic streak of ours, especially since I'm now on the receiving end of her singlemindedness, not to mention her talented fingers and mouth. 

Case in point today. No meetings today that require my attention, which is a damned blessing under normal circumstances. But today is most assuredly nowhere near normal circumstances. Today begins the slow and tedious process of performance evaluations. I still can't believe that Snow decided that evaluations shouldn't take place in December, at the end of the year. Oh no, her benighted mind decided that it should happen in October because _Everyone knows that the year ends with All Hallow's Eve, Regina_. If I could kill her without repercussions, I would do it. I don't care how far I've come in my redemption to date. Everyone knows there are two points where things reboot in business and government, as it were: the end of the calendar year and the end of the fiscal year. October 31st is neither of those.

"Is this not working for you, Regina?"

Emma's voice from behind my chair brings me back to the present again. Her hands are warm on my shoulders, and I lean my head back on my chair to glance up at her. She wants to help so badly, but disappointment shines in her eyes, dulling their green to a sickly algae color.

"Normally it would, you know that, Emma."

"But?"

Gesturing to the paperwork on my desk, I growl softly. "Your fucking mother has made a royal mess of things, pun _entirely_ intended."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. She's not a good mayor, that's for sure. So what can I do to help make this process easier for you? File paperwork? Take dictation?"

That gets my attention. "You take dictation?"

Emma shrugs. "I learned it in prison from one of the few inmates that actually wasn't out to kill me or Henry. I'm not great at it, but it helped me get a couple temp jobs right out of prison before I stumbled into the bail bonds work." She licks her lips and shakes her head slightly, as if ridding herself of a particularly nasty memory. It gives me pause, but I know better than to push when she's clearly shuttered the remembrance away. "So, yeah, if me taking dictation for your reviews will help, I'll do it. I can get the kid to type it up after homework tonight even."

"You just want to see what your review says," I reply with a lazy smirk, winking up at her. She chuckles and leans over to kiss me, fingers flexing against my shoulders in the process. "Mmm, that feels good."

"I'd give you a proper massage, but your office isn't really set up for it." When I open my mouth to reply, she continues and doesn't let me speak at all. "And I know that you're not gonna leave the office quite this early, even if you are the boss, so I won't suggest we go home for it."

As my head returns to its normal position, I shift to take off my right shoe, leaning down to massage the back of my calf briefly. The moan that escapes my lips is low and pained, and I can tell by the way the air shifts behind me that Emma's heard it.

"Hey, let me get that for you while you work. I know how those fuck me heels of yours kill your back and calves regularly. I get that you love them, but flats are okay, too, or just little kitten heels." She smirks then as she kneels next to me. She attempts to grab my foot, but the angle doesn't work for what we both need. "Okay, this is gonna sound stupid kinds of wrong, but I need to crawl under your desk to get this done properly unless you want to move over to the couch."

"My computer isn't at the couch, Emma."

She nods slowly. "That's what I thought. All right, then I guess I'm doing this the hard way. For me. You get to sit back comfortably in your chair and do your thing while I do mine down here on this hard tile floor." She shifts to move around my desk and crawl underneath it.

"Emma?"

"Just gimme your foot and please don't fucking kick me, okay?"

Snorting softly, I shift back to my normal position. "Are you sure you're going to be comfortable under there?"

"If not, I'll just go sit in that hot tub of yours when I take you home. Oh yeah, you don't have one. See, this is an excellent reason for you to get one."

"You're incorrigible and stubborn as an ass." The last word is moaned out as her thumb digs into my arch, the sensation racing up my leg to pool hotly in my groin, and my head falls back to the headrest of my chair again. "If you keep doing that, I'll buy you a hot tub to put in the station bullpen. Just promise me that Leroy won't use it."

"You realize I'm gonna hold you to that, right?"

"It's not in the town budget."

She just chuckles and presses her thumb into that same spot, only harder this time. I can see stars exploding behind my eyelids and want nothing more than to melt into a puddle of goo at her feet. 

"I'm sure you can figure something out, Madam Mayor."

I glare half-heartedly at her, enjoying this massage far more than I expected. When Emma sets up a slow, steady rhythm of working each muscle and joint in my right foot, I find myself far more capable of working on my performance reviews. There are a couple points where I have to stop, either due to particularly recalcitrant knots or, more often, because her touch sends a frisson of need directly to my clit. When she shifts to my left foot, I half-wonder if I'm finally going to die from this treatment. I honestly can't find the energy to care enough about it.

"You still doing okay up there, Regina?"

"Mmm," I murmur, unable to say anything for fear of giving away just how much this is turning me on.

"So I can keep going then?" At my noncommittal grunt, she just chuckles and picks up my right foot again, setting it in her lap to begin focusing on my ankle and calf. "I think we need to start scheduling these massages at least once a week, maybe twice. Your muscles are tighter than drum skins."

"I-- Really?"

She chuckles softly when her fingers brush the back of my right knee, making me squirm. Damn! She found one of my ticklish spots. "Yes, really. Too much time in those heels can do major damage to the muscles and tendons in your calves. I knew a lady once who wore the really high heels so much that the muscles and tendons were permanently damaged and she couldn't flatten out her foot. It was like a Barbie's foot and even her slippers were the same insanely high heels. It was that or potentially doing permanent surgical shit that frankly creeped me out, but it was enough to cure me of wearing heels more than occasionally."

"You're making fun of me." My words come out in a soft growl, and I try to pull my leg back. But Emma simply holds on tighter, massaging my Achilles more intensely. It hurts, but feels so much better at the same time, shooting bursts of activity along my nerves. It takes a moment or two before I realize how that nervous energy is accumulating behind my clit, slicking thong and thighs alike. _Fuck!_ If she continues this massage all the way up…

"Not in the slightest. I know you don't always wear the crazy fuck me domme stilettos, so that's good. I just don't want you to permanently damage yourself for vanity reasons, okay?"

The worry underlying her tone makes me sit up a bit, gently easing my chair back to meet her gaze under the desktop. "Hey, I know you worry and I appreciate it more than you may ever understand. I promise I'll be more careful with the heels from now on." 

She smiles and tugs at my leg again, and I relax as she pulls me closer again. The surprised sigh of relief as my ankle pops is entirely unfeigned, making her chuckle. "Thought you might like that." She works on my right calf a little more, only brushing that ticklish spot twice more, before shifting to repeat the same thing on my left calf. 

I find myself falling back into my work now, less stress weighing on my mind than before. Even with her constant touch on my skin, soothing and arousing by turns, I am able to power through at least two more personnel folders for performance reviews before I realize her fingers have made their inexorable way up my right leg toward the apex of my thighs. A shudder of want thunders down my spine and I can't help the soft moan escaping my lips. Without realizing it, I've shifted in my seat, legs spreading wider incrementally to compensate for Emma moving closer to continue her massage. The charcoal pencil skirt I chose to wear today hinders my movement, and I growl softly.

"Problems, babe?"

"This damned skirt…"

She strokes a hand up my inner thigh, and I swallow hard as I feel her fingers skitter along the slick arousal there. "Mmm, what is this?"

"Don't tease me, Emma." If I wasn't so turned on right now, I'd be mortified by just how needy I sound.

She attempts to push my skirt up more, but this one's tighter than usual and won't budge. If only I hadn't wanted to feel more powerful today to get through these stupid evaluations, I could be on my way to a lovely orgasm thanks to Emma.

"You know I love you in these pencil skirts, Regina, but can we maybe magic this bitch off for now? I think we _both_ earned this impending orgasm."

Without hesitation, magic removes my skirt, unbuttons my blouse, and locks the door. I know how much Emma loves to fondle my breasts while going down on me. The second that confining material is no longer hindering me, I shift low in my chair, legs spreading eagerly. I can smell my own arousal from this angle. "Please, Emma, don't tease me, not now. I don't know when someone's going to interrupt us and I refuse to spend another day in this office with a soaked thong and blue clit." 

"Shh," she says softly, easing down my thong before kissing her way up the inside of my right thigh. "Mmm, you smell fucking incredible, good enough to eat." She chuckles softly when a pillow magically appears under her knees. "Thank you, Regina. Now, you just sit back and relax and let me take good care of you."

Settling back, I let my eyes close as her lips move closer and closer to where I want her, clit already aching for her touch. Taking a slow, deep breath, I let it out and release any remaining tension as Emma's tongue begins to trace along my lips before flicking the tip of my clit. The whimper that escapes me only seems to egg her on as she explores in ever-growing spirals out nearly to my perineum. The thrum of arousal pulses through my entire body, until it feels like ants tickling their way across my skin.

"Regina, we need to ta-- Oh!"

Time comes to a complete standstill, and even Emma seems to freeze between my legs. When the identity of our intruder dawns on me, I can't help but growl as I stare at her. "There had better be some fucking kind of emergency, Maleficent. That door was _locked by magic_."

"Locks are irrelevant," she replies smoothly, a predatory smirk on her face. "Besides, I haven't seen your tits framed so nicely in years. And Swan's got a great ass in those painted on jeans of hers."

"Get out," I mutter, reaching down to touch Emma's shoulder, hoping she's actually still angled right to keep Mal's eyes off my naked lower half. "My girlfriend and I are--"

"Girlfriend? Oh, Kitten, have you finally come to your senses and realized how smitten you are by the snowflake's spawn?" She claps her hands excitedly and grabs the chair on the other side of my desk. "Do continue, Sheriff. You don't want to deprive Her Majesty of a good orgasm."

This is madness. How am I supposed to sit here with my ex-girlfriend on the other side of the desk while my current girlfriend is trapped under my desk, her mouth close enough to my sex that each exhale teases across my clit? I want to get redressed. I want to kick Mal out of here. I want… Emma glances up at me from under the desk, pupils blown out with arousal, just the barest rim of green showing, and she licks her lips. I want to come in the worst way right now.

"This goes nowhere, Maleficent. Promise me."

"Who am I going to tell? The snowflake and her plodding prince? The werewolves that barely tolerate my presence? The bugs? You know you like it when there's an audience, Kitten."

Emma narrows her eyes at Mal's second use of that nickname. "Regina," I say slowly, quirking a brow at Mal. "You know you can't use that name any longer."

"My apologies, Regina." She shifts then, and Emma jumps with a soft yelp. "And you, too, Emma. But please do continue while the grownups talk."

Emma looks up at me again and I offer her a small smile. "We don't have to do this, Emma, but how is this any different from what you and I did at the diner?" 

She grins at that and nods. "Just make sure Mal keeps her feet and hands to herself. If I get goosed again, I'm gonna punch her."

"Dragon's honor, I won't touch without permission."


	4. The Park

The sheer pleasure of an unseasonably warm day in late October has me playing hooky with Emma. Henry's not pleased that he has to stay in school, but I've promised him a later curfew this weekend as compensation. Am I bribing my son so that I can spend a little alone time with his other mother? Yes, I am. Do I feel guilty for doing this? Not in the slightest. I'm quite sure he's sharked Emma out of something, too, but even that doesn't bother me.

Once he was off to school, Emma dragged me upstairs for a long, sexy shower. With us still trying to keep our relationship relatively private, we don't spend nearly as much time together as either of us would prefer. Maybe it's time to reconsider my issues with going public, especially if she's going to keep trying to get us caught _in flagrante delecto_. But shower sex led us to re-christening my bed _and_ the chaise before the fireplace. That led to _another_ shower, but this time I made sure we showered separately. Emma got a very cold shower once I found the two dark marks that would require covering up.

Finally dressed, we head over to Granny's for an early lunch. She gives us the stink eye when we walk in, but I can see the faint gleam of amusement underneath it. She's another one that could give us away to Snow White, just like David. And now that this is the final week of his month of free meals as bribery to keep his mouth shut around his wife, I have no idea what to expect from him. Emma says to trust him, as long as he doesn't catch us again.

I'm not even surprised that Granny herself comes over to get our order. We don't even bother with menus anymore. She knows our order forwards and backwards, but waits for us to say it anyway.

"Double cheeseburger with the works, fries _and_ onion rings, and one of those chocolate peanut butter shakes," Emma says with a bright grin. "And what pie do you have today? I may want a slice for dessert, depending on what you've got."

Granny snorts and writes down her order, then gestures vaguely back toward the pie case. "Cherry cheesecake, chocolate silk, peach, and lemon meringue. There might be a piece of Oreo cheesecake left, but I think Archie had his eye on that one." At Emma's nod, she turns to me. "And for you, Madam Mayor? Your usual?"

For a moment, I'm caught up in her gaze, seeing the faint flash of gold that signals her wolf senses still at play, despite her age and inability to shift. Licking my lips, I can _feel_ that she senses the wariness and need to show domination warring for supremacy within me, but I will always respect her. A deep breath goes a long way to restoring my emotional equilibrium when the corners of her mouth twitch with the effort not to smirk at me.

"Actually, I would like a tuna melt on rye, marbled if you have it. And if you have salmon, I'd prefer that to the tuna. Fries and a side salad with extra blue cheese on the side, and two pickle slices." I bite my bottom lip, debating my drink, knowing I should do something healthier like lemon water, but the words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. "And a non-alcoholic sangria if you still have that available. If not, sweet tea with peach." 

Pleased with my meal choice, I adjust my head a bit, hair shifting. The widening of her eyes is my only warning before she leans in and lightly touches the mark below my ear. Of _course_ she's seen the darker of the two marks Emma left behind this morning. Part of me bristles that she dares to touch me, but I also trust her in ways I can never fully explain. When she leans back, there's a look of sympathetic amusement before she narrows her eyes at Emma.

"You make sure you brew a nice cup of chamomile tea tonight before bed," she says in a voice that only the two of us can hear, "and let the bag cool before you poultice it on that mark. Leave it for a couple hours if you can. Repeat it in the morning, if necessary. That should help reduce the worst of the swelling and bruising. And next time, Emma, you be a little more careful. If you're trying to stay private, that's definitely not the way to do it."

"Yes, ma'am," Emma replies, properly chastened.

"All right. Let me go get your order in for Earl. I think we do have the salmon, Regina. Do you still want the kraut with it?"

"Oh, yes, please."

"Thought so, but figured I'd check first. I'll bring out your drinks in a bit."

With that, she wanders away and leaves us to the strangely awkward silence that settles over us for a moment. Emma glances around before reaching across the table top to touch my hand. "I'm really sorry about that, Regina. I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did," I reply softly, eyes taking in the lay of the land before lacing my fingers with hers. "But it's okay. I've been thinking…"

"Yeah?" The smile on her face as she squeezes my hand gently is encouraging.

"Yeah. The more I think about it, the less I want to keep everything about our relationship secret. I know we've been taking things slower than you really wanted, and I appreciate your patience with me on that. But given how many times we've been caught in the last month alone, and how my feelings have gradually been changing, I think maybe we're better off being proactive and open at this point."

"But what about my mom? I know her reaction's been your biggest fear in all of this."

"No, that honor goes to our son, but he's left enough hints that he's tired of us forcing him to hide things, too. Yes, I still fear Snow's reaction, but I'd much rather just get it over with at this point. David seems okay with us, and I think he'll be a great help in ensuring your mother doesn't have a huge meltdown over this." Licking my lips again, I squeeze her fingers and study her face. "What do you think?"

"I think you're absolutely right, Regina. We'll figure out when we want to do this, but I'd kind of like to do it before Dad's bribery period is over."

Her scowl makes me laugh. "Are you insinuating that you don't trust your father to keep his promise after it's over?"

"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm flat out saying that he'd probably throw us under the bus to keep himself in Mom's good graces."

I can't help the peals of laughter erupting at her vehemence. For possibly the first time in years, I don't even care that everyone in the diner is staring at our booth.

~~*~~*~~

Once lunch has been consumed, Emma pays and throws in a generous tip for Granny. She helps me out of the booth and follows me outside into the sunshine, offering her arm when we're far enough away from the diner. "How about a stroll in the park, Madam Mayor?"

"I would be delighted, Sheriff Swan," I reply, taking her arm. "You'll protect me from those evil geese that like to shit all over and destroy the grass, won't you?"

"But of course." She smirks, and I can tell she's in a mood. "And we should check to make sure there aren't any kids playing hooky and hiding out in the bushes by the pond. That's a known make out spot."

Chuckling as she waggles her brows at me, I simply nod for a moment as we walk. "We should definitely check that out and make sure it's safe." 

The further we walk into the park, the more relaxed I feel. This decision to go public about our relationship is possibly the best decision I've made since taking the chance to date Emma in the first place. Everything feels more intense, more brightly colored, clichéd as that sounds. We make a full circuit around the pond, waving to Archie and Pongo across the way, before moving off toward what Emma says is the make out spot.

"Come here, you," she says with a grin, backing me up against a tree. She leans in to press a slow, teasing kiss to my lips, hands on my hips as she shifts to make sure we're hidden from view. The kiss deepens, my eyes fluttering shut to let the sensations roll over me. The faint thrum of our two magics combining is comforting and sends a jolt of awareness down my spine. "Mmm, I could get used to these kisses first thing every morning and last thing every night."

"I know." I stroke her cheek. "And soon enough, that will be our reality, my dear. I love you, Emma."

She sucks in a startled breath at my admission. "Wow! It feels great to hear you say that, Regina. I love you, too." 

She kisses me again, hands slowly wandering over my curves. Each touch leaves tingling awareness in its wake until my entire body is aflame with love and desire. "Make love to me, Emma." The words are out of my mouth before I realize I've said them. "Please?"

"Your wish is my command," she says with a grin, fingers already teasing with the fly on my jeans. "Can you keep quiet?"

"I-I don't know, but I'll try."

"That's my girl."

Emma kisses me again, a little harder this time, more teeth and tongue than before. She brands a trail of kisses down my neck as her hands pull my Henley up. A few sucking kisses and licks to the swells of my breasts elicit a soft moan, and then she kneels before me to tug jeans and thong down nearly to my ankles. I shift against the tree behind me, knees bending slightly to expose myself to her hot gaze and hotter mouth.

"Oh fuck," I whimper as her tongue slides along my slick lips, culminating in a swirl of her tongue around my clit.

"Shh, quiet, Regina," she murmurs before diving in with gusto.

Emma can be tender in her lovemaking or demanding in her fucking. This is somewhere in the middle, but leaning toward fucking, given our location and likely timeframe. I bite down on a knuckle in an attempt to stay quiet while her lips, teeth, and tongue tease and torment clit and cunt alike. It won't take long, I can feel the orgasm already building and throbbing behind my clit. Two slender fingers set up a fast, hard pace of fucking me. Her thrusts are counterpoint to the flicks of her tongue, until my entire world tunnels down to her face and hand between my thighs. My hips buck and undulate against her face, the rough bark of the tree trunk scraping my ass only adding to the intense orgasm building.

"Pongo! Where are you going?" Archie's voice cuts through the haze of almost coming and I stare down at Emma in fear as the Dalmatian's bark sounds too close for comfort. "Come on, boy, get the stick!"

Emma's fingers drag heavily against my g-spot until stars burst behind my eyelids, my body trembling as my orgasm washes over me. Thank all the gods for that large, sturdy oak tree behind me, or I'd be flat on my back. Emma uses magic to redress me as soon as the worst of my aftershocks is over, then stands to kiss me gently. Tasting myself on her tongue elicits a heady moan, then a low chuckle as we hear Archie calling for Pongo again from a distance.

"I swear, I was expecting to feel Pongo's cold nose on my ass at one point."

"Your ass?" I ask incredulously. "Your jeans were firmly in place. My ass was hanging out for him to nose so easily!"

She squeezes my ass and hums in appreciation. "I'd have fought him if he tried to touch your ass."

"I'd have laughed if you'd tried, but not if it meant getting caught."

"I can't believe we got away with it."

"I know."

"If that's not a sign that it's time for us to go public, I'm not sure what is."

She really should know better than to tempt fate like that…


	5. Home Sweet Home

The euphoria of _not_ being caught by Archie and Pongo carries through until the weekend, but Emma's apparent desire to be an exhibitionist has run its course. I can admit that I'm partially upset by this; the thrill of potentially being caught did give me some great orgasms. But I do understand the need for not causing too much scandal in this gossipy small town we live in, especially now that we're ready to go public.

Ruby is on call this weekend at the station, leaving Emma home with me to plan how we'll break the news to Snow. Once she and Leroy know, and Ruby's given the go ahead to break her own silence, everyone in town will be aware of our relationship status within twenty-four hours at most. David takes advantage of the weekend off, planning a brief camping trip for himself, Snow, and Henry. Granny somehow manages to talk Snow into leaving young Neal behind so the adults can teach Henry more of their tracking and hunting skills. I believe David mentioned possibly having Robin and the Merry Men help with some skills tests, as well.

Friday after school, the three of them pack their supplies and head out in David's truck toward the woods near the lighthouse. Part of me wants to head out there myself, finding a sense of serenity and safety near the light that should guide people into and out of our harbor, if the cursed barrier allowed it. But no, Emma and I are spending the weekend alone, but also moving some of Emma's things into the mansion. We're by no means ready for her to fully move in, but I know I'll feel better if she has something familiar here when she does stay over.

By late morning on Saturday, we have all of Emma's chosen belongings settled in drawers, closet, and bathroom vanity. The extra toothbrush in the cup by the sink throws me briefly when I step into the bathroom, but then I remember why it's there and who it belongs to, and the smile threatens to split my face in half.

"You okay in there, babe?" Emma asks, coming up behind me where I stand in the doorway to the bathroom to wrap her arms around my waist. "Did I put something away wrong?"

I turn in her arms, my own going around her neck as I gently kiss her. "Not yet," I tease and wink. "I was just realizing how much things have changed for me since casting the curse, and especially since Henry came into my life. I found love and the desire for redemption through our son's love. I found love that made my heart feel whole again. I lost that love when I had to sacrifice you and Henry to stop Pan's curse. I found my soulmate again." She wrinkles her nose at that, and I can't help but kiss the tip. "He and Roland helped me deal with the devastating loss of you and Henry. And once we realized we're better as friends, that there can be a platonic soulmate bond every bit as strong as any love I've ever felt, it's just been easier for us."

She strokes my cheek, fingers tracing back into my hair. "You would have been taken care of if you couldn't find a way to break the curse and bring our family back home. I'm always going to be in his debt for that. And when he's ready for it, I'm going to talk to him about becoming another of my deputies. Hell, I'll take his whole band if it means we can have good coverage for the whole area."

"I think he'd like that." I smirk then. "If I don't poach him for some sort of forestry position."

"Whatever works," she says, rolling her eyes. "I just want to make sure everyone knows that Madam Mayor is very much off the market."

"Oh, she is, is she?" My brow quirks up, even as I know what she'll say. "And who decided that?"

"The Sheriff did. Protection is a very serious business in this town," she says, suddenly growing very serious, "and yours and Henry's are my top priority. Always."

That melts my heart and I lean in again for a languid kiss. I could spend days learning every reaction she has to every kind of kiss I can think of, and now I have the entire weekend to start. No need for us to be anywhere or do anything for the next twenty-four hours before our son comes home again. She starts to back away into the bedroom, tugging me along with her. I will follow Emma into the very depths of Hell if need be. As we begin to sway to the song that only our hearts can hear, our kisses slowly deepen.

The timer on my phone goes off, signaling the need to go check on the cake I'm making Emma for dessert tonight. She groans at the sound, and I find myself echoing it, reluctant to end our kisses. And then I remember that we don't have to stop.

"Come on," I say, pulling back to reach down and grab her hand. She laces her fingers with mine easily enough. "Maybe you can use those bail bondsperson powers of persuasion to talk me out of a piece of cake before dinner."

Her nose crinkles as she studies my face, head tilted to the side. "With or without frosting? Wait! What kind of frosting are you using? You didn't even tell me what cake you made me."

"I guess you'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

With that, I squeeze her hand, then take off toward the stairs and the kitchen on the lower level. Her growl of frustration just makes me laugh, an unfettered sound that echoes down the hallway behind me. "I'm gonna get you for that, Mills!" she calls from the bedroom.

"You'll have to catch me first, Swan!"

Her footfalls spur me into action and I race down the stairs, feeling every bit as carefree as I was once upon a time with a stable boy and first love. The connection to that same light feeling of belonging and being loved for who I am, good and bad, is a heady sensation. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, bending over slightly to catch my breath.

"I'm coming for your ass, Regina, and you're in big trouble when I catch you."

"If I'm in trouble," I reply glancing over my shoulder to see her on the upper landing, "then you don't get any cake or any other dessert I might have available for you."

She stops then, one foot hovering over the step to continue down. "Any other dessert? What do you-- _Oh!_ Yeah, that's not fair!"

All I can do is laugh at her as I make my way into the kitchen to pull out the cake pans. Deftly flipping them over onto the cooling racks, I smile as the scent of chocolate and cherry fills the kitchen. Emma steps into the kitchen as I pull out the mixer and start mixing the chocolate cream cheese frosting. She watches avidly as I work, slowly inching closer to me until she's right at my side, one hand on the counter, the other on my hip. I bite back a smirk as her chin moves to rest on my shoulder, a soft moan wafting past my ear. At least now I have incontrovertible proof of where our son gets his sweet tooth. 

Once the frosting is exactly as I like it, I turn off the mixer and scrape the excess off the beater, leaving just enough behind to make it worthwhile to lick clean. The childlike delight on her face when I offer the beater to her is just one more reason to fall deeper in love with her. She drags her tongue up one side, followed by a positively sinful moan when she actually tastes the frosting.

"Oh my god, babe! This is so fucking good!" 

She attacks the beater as if her life depends on it, complete with those wicked sounds that I've come to recognize, and I know I have a moment or two to get the cake halves leveled and at least the crumb coat layer on. After that, I'm quite sure she'll be pestering me either for a piece of cake or sticking her fingers into the bowl to get more of the frosting. 

"Do I have to remind you about eating your dinner to earn your dessert like I do with your son?"

Her eyes widen comically, then narrow just as quickly. "Why is he always _my_ son when it's something negative?"

Rather than answer, I simply shrug and keep frosting the cake. Without batting an eye, I reach over and smack the back of her hand with the spatula when she tries to sneak frosting from the bowl. She yelps and cradles her hand, but I notice her watching me as she licks the frosting left behind from her punishment.

"Fuck, that's good!"

"You seem surprised that I can cook so well, Emma. I do know how to feed myself, and you, and our son without living on takeout or the microwave."

"Ha-ha, very funny. I can cook, you know."

"You can?"

"Yeah, I'm just lazy. Is that what you're waiting for me to say?"

"Perhaps." Leaning back, I study the cake critically. "What are your thoughts on coconut shavings versus chocolate shavings?"

Her response is instantaneously. "Do I _have_ to choose? I mean, why can't I have both?"

"Emma…"

"Coconut is good for you, so that makes it healthy, right?" Before I get the chance to answer, she continues, "And you're probably gonna use dark chocolate shavings, and there's like actual medical research that says dark chocolate is _also_ good for you."

My startled laughter is not feigned in the slightest. "And if I ever had any remaining doubts about your biological connection to our son, they've been laid to rest now. You are very much your mother's daughter and your son's mother."

"Mom was like this, too?" Her question is tentative, and I feel bad for making her cautious to learn about her parents. "I didn't realize…"

"Your mother would have had me add cinnamon to the frosting, but yes, she had her sweet tooth that was difficult to tame. I had to remind her constantly about needing to abstain so she could look good for potential husbands." I swallow thickly at the memory of those same words being aimed at me. The sensation of arms wrapping around me again and a strong, warm body pressed against my back ground me in the present again. My voice is husky when I speak again. "If you want cinnamon, I'll sprinkle some on."

"Nah, it's fine the way it is," she replies softly. "But there is something you can do for me."

"What's that?"

"Turn around and let me kiss you?"

"Oh, I can do that." My grin is bright as I set down the spatula and turn into her arms. She meets me in the middle for a gentle, lazy kiss. This ability to be so open and free with our love here at home makes my heart actually _ache_ at how perfect it is. But knowing my past as it's been, I fear jinxing everything if I become _too_ complacent or even cocky about it. Losing Daniel hurt; everything that happened with Robin, while ultimately turning out to be for the best for both of us, still hurt; and the very thought of losing Emma, losing this beautiful sense of belonging, is probably my deepest fear at this point in time.

"Hey," she says softly, stroking my cheek to pull me from my thoughts. "You okay?" When I nod slowly and swallow past the lump in my throat, she tilts her head to the side. "Where did you just go?"

"Just thinking, I guess," I finally whisper, blinking back tears.

"Anything you wanna share, babe?"

I consider that, then shake my head. "Not yet. It's-- You know how some people are so superstitious that they won't tell their wishes for fear they won't come true?"

"Yeah, I do. I have a couple that I won't tell for that very reason."

"I feel that way about some of my fears. If I give voice to them, they have the power to hurt me."

She smiles and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. "Then you don't have to talk about them unless you're ready to. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to, Regina, I promise you that."

Sniffling, I lean into her touch as she cups my face, thumbs wiping away the tears slipping down my cheeks. "Thank you, my love. You are so good to me, so patient with what are probably silly demands and restrictions on my part."

"Hey, we all have our own baggage. The best people understand how to integrate their baggage with yours."

She kisses me again, one hand gliding back to cup the back of my skull, fingers scratching gently at my scalp. The sensation calms me, and my lips part to accept her questing tongue. The kiss is languid, an easy communion between two wounded souls trying to find solace in one another. She presses me into the island behind me, a soft gasp escaping my lips as her other hand glides down to rest on my hip. My own hands rest against her lower back, holding her close to me.

After several moments of lazy kisses, Emma leans back with a grin and rests her forehead against mine. "Hi."

"Hi."

"You feeling a little better now, babe?" When I nod, she echoes the action and leans in closer to me again. "Good."

And then I feel it. A dollop of icing is swiped across my lips, courtesy of her finger. Immediately afterward, her lips cover mine, licking and sucking the sweet treat before deepening the kiss. This pattern continues for half a dozen fingers' full of icing, each dropped in a different spot: lips, cheeks, chin, jawline, and finally down my breastbone and disappearing between my breasts. When the hell did my shirt get unbuttoned? I can't concentrate on the question as her lips and teeth follow the path of the icing, leaving my skin a sticky, tingling mess. She moans at the taste, the sound sending a shiver of desire oozing down my spine to explode in my loins.

"If I wasn't craving the idea of eating that cake and frosting off your body right now, I'd sweep this island clean and take you right here."

"Oh my god! Emma!"

The sound of Snow's voice is the verbal equivalent of being dunked in ice water. Emma and I scramble apart out of surprise, and I fumble to close my shirt. Not that she'd see anything scandalous, of course. We're both still fully clothed, but…

"What is going on here?!"

"Mom," Emma says slowly, hands held up in a placating manner. "Please don't flip out, okay? We can explain."

Magic goes a long way to restoring my clothing and removing the traces of icing from both of our bodies. Taking a deep breath, I turn around to face her. "Please know that I love your daughter, Snow. I would never do anything to hurt her."

Snow just stares at us for a long moment, lips set in a thin line. This doesn't bode well. Movement behind her catches my eye, and I see David and Henry walking up to the doorway of the kitchen, stunned looks on their faces.

"Snow…"

"Do you think I'm _that_ clueless that I didn't know about the two of you?"

For a moment, everything goes absolutely still in the kitchen. The blood in my veins slows to the consistency of molasses, heart struggling to beat as the realization dawns that my stepdaughter has known about us for who knows how long. And then I see money exchanging hands between David and Henry, a huge grin on the former's face.

"Hold on! David, did you break the rules of our deal? It doesn't end until tomorrow night."

"Deal? What deal?" Snow turns to stare at her husband, who now has the good sense to look sheepish. "What is Regina talking about, David?"

Emma shakes her head. "Dad caught us at the station almost a month ago and basically bribed us in order to not tell you about us." 

She goes on to explain the details of the deal, but I can't meet anyone's gaze suddenly. This is too much too soon. I've been caught making out with my girlfriend by her mother, my former stepdaughter, and the rest of our family. It doesn't matter that I'm the oldest one here and that this is _my_ house, I still feel like an errant child waiting to be punished.

"Regina?"

"Hmm?" I ask, glancing at her briefly before dropping my gaze again.

"When did you plan on telling me that you'd proposed to my daughter?"

"Propo-- What in the hell just happened here?"

"Mom, no! We're not engaged. It's way too soon for that!"

"I need to know if you've set a date yet, so I can plan the wedding. We'll have a big wedding down by the water, I think. We can do it this coming summer. You'll both look gorgeous in that setting."

Before I realize it, there's a fireball in my palm, burning hot and itching to be thrown in Snow's face. Emma grabs my arm, calling my name to distract me, as David and Henry try to pull Snow away, likely fearing for her safety.

"Even _if_ Emma and I choose to marry, you will not be planning the ceremony," I growl. "Now get out of my house and leave us alone. David…"

He holds up his hand in surrender and offers a sheepish grin. "I'll talk to her, I promise. Call me when you're ready to talk, okay? I'll make sure she doesn't say anything until then."

The fireball dissipates in my hand as both Emma and Henry try to soothe my anger. "Thanks, Dad," Emma says, rubbing my back. "I'll call you tomorrow maybe?"

He nods and drags Snow out of the house, reminding her loudly about Neal, which is the only thing that gets her off this damned wedding kick. When the door slams shut behind them, I sag into Emma's arms wearily, adrenalin bleeding off.

"I'm gonna just go upstairs and work on my homework," Henry says, kissing each of our cheeks. "For the record? I'm glad Grams finally knows. I don't think she'll be nearly as big of an issue as you fear. Besides, you can just keep making out around her and scandalizing her."

With that, he heads upstairs and Emma laughs. "Wow! He's definitely our kid, because I was kind of thinking the same thing."

"Emma, I--"

"Nobody decides how far our relationship goes but us, Regina. There's no set time table we need to follow here. If and when we want to consider something more legally binding, it'll be our decision and our announcement to make, okay?"

I nod slowly and sigh into her gentle kiss. "Can we just go clean up and maybe go watch a movie or something?"

"Anything you want, babe."

**Author's Note:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).


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